


Ray and Rose and That Guy Trevor

by kattahj



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: Backstory, Cancer, F/M, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Marriage, Musicians, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29518626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattahj/pseuds/kattahj
Summary: Ray's POV on Rose's friendship with Trevor, through the years.(In which Trevor is kind of guilty but also kind of innocent.)
Relationships: Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Ray Molina & Rose, Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Rose, Ray Molina/Rose
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Ray and Rose and That Guy Trevor

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you twiceturned for the beta!

The first time Ray heard Rose say the name “Trevor” was in bed.

After an evening together, Rose had asked him to stay over. It had happened a couple of times before, but still sent a thrill down his spine. They made love, then lay in bed talking, and he fell asleep watching her face, with his fingers buried in her hair.

A few hours later, Rose’s phone rang, and she bolted out of bed to get it.

Ray fumbled for his watch, and was alarmed to find that it was 3:20 AM. Had someone died? An emergency of some sort, he’d have guessed, but Rose seemed too calm for that. Serious, mournful even, as she listened to the person on the other end, but not surprised or shocked.

The things she was saying in return were mostly simple words of support and agreement that didn’t provide him with much context. The call lasted for long enough that he almost drifted back to sleep.

When she returned to bed, she curled up against him and said, “Sorry to wake you.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, no. It was just my friend Bobby… I mean, Trevor. He’s Trevor now. He’s going through some stuff.”

“Going through some stuff that he needed to tell you about at half past three in the morning?”

“Mm.”

“How do you know this guy again?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Her eyes, which had been half-closed, widened again, and she chuckled a little. “I’m not dating him, if that’s what you’re asking. He’s seventeen. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”

The absolute conviction in her voice did go some way to calm the stirring jealousy, though it didn’t leave him any less bewildered. “Okay. But then… why you?”

She sighed, and it was some time before she replied, “Do you remember Sunset Curve?”

The seeming non sequitur threw him off, and it took him some time to place the name. “They’re… a band, right? Didn’t their singer die or something?”

“Almost all of them died.” Her voice thickened with emotion. “That was Trevor’s band. Bobby, he was then. I met them that night, and he wasn’t with them when they died because he was trying to chat me up. We didn’t know. We had no idea anything was wrong until we heard the sirens.”

“Jesus,” Ray breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“They were just kids,” she said, “and so talented. I couldn’t do a thing to help them. All I could do was try to comfort the one who was still alive. I held his hand that awful, awful night, and I guess I’ve been doing it ever since.”

He put an arm around her and hugged her close. “That’s terrible. I’m glad you’re there for him.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

She gave him a small, shaky smile. “Even at three in the morning?”

“At any time.” He pressed a light kiss to her temple. “Mi hermosa.”

“Mi corazón,” she whispered, caressing his cheek.

Soon, her hand stilled and her eyes fell closed. Ray held her in the dark, and contemplated the idea of being seventeen years old and the last one left alive.

* * *

Actually meeting Trevor was a bit of an anticlimax. Rose had invited some friends over for a jam session, and Ray hung around for a while taking pictures before going on a snacks run. When he returned, there were three more people crammed into Rose’s living room, and she made another round of introductions. “Stephanie, Angel, Trevor, this is my Ray.”

His heart skipped a beat at the “my” as he shook the hands of the new people, and it was easy to smile at them. Even so, he paused for a moment before the boy with the long brown fringe. How did you tell someone “sorry your bandmates died” without making it worse instead of better?

In the end, he only held out the paper bag and asked, “Coke or Mountain Dew?”

As the night continued, Ray tried to forget about Trevor’s recent tragedy and just treat him like a normal kid. That wasn’t so hard – for all intents and purposes, he _was_ a normal kid. A little more quiet than average, maybe, but brightened up when everyone started playing. Good guitarist, decent singer. Not as mesmerizing as Rose, but then, Ray was biased.

Their next few encounters were much the same. Eventually, Ray stopped thinking of Trevor as the guy with the dead band mates, and started thinking of him as the guy who liked vegetarian pizza, and listened unironically to George Harrison’s solo stuff, and was always ready to strike a pose for Ray’s photos.

Even the late-night phone calls trickled to a halt. It wasn’t that Ray forgot, and he certainly didn’t think Trevor had forgotten, but he assumed that the crisis was over.

Until the day Trevor came over to tell Rose that he had signed with Capitol Records.

He paced the floor, breathing quickly and gesturing to himself, which could have fit pretty well with the monumental news, but his demeanor was too upset in the wrong way. Ray and Rose shared a puzzled glance across the kitchen table.

“Congratulations?” Rose offered.

Trevor spun around. “I’m going crazy. Or maybe not crazy, but… I’m imagining things.”

“What kind of things?”

“There was this guy, right? Before…” His voice hitched. “Before the Orpheum. He said he could make me rich and famous, but that the offer was for me alone. I’d have to leave the band behind. And I said, ‘Sounds good, man,’ and shook his hand, which stung in a _weird_ way. Then he vanished without a trace, and the next thing I know, my friends are dead, and I have to change my name to escape the press. After that, my career takes off like _whoah_ , and now I’m being signed with a major label, and… and… I think I may have caused it.”

Rose stood up and gently forced Trevor down on a chair. “Breathe, nene. You didn’t cause anything, okay? Your friends died of food poisoning. A whole lot of people in that alley got food poisoning, and it’s horrible, and unfair, but it’s _not your fault_. Sometimes bad things just happen for no reason. And you were signed because you’re talented, and hard working, and yes, you got lucky, but there’s nothing nefarious about it. I promise.”

She kept talking, and slowly Trevor’s shoulders sank and his breaths slowed down.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Any time,” Rose said, patting his hand.

When he left a little while later, he seemed quietly embarrassed at his own reaction.

Rose waved goodbye and watched him walk down the road, not closing the door until he turned a corner.

“Oh, God, that poor kid,” she said with a sigh afterwards. “I really thought he was doing so much better. It’s that survivor’s guilt.”

“I don’t suppose there’s anything to it?” Ray asked.

“Are you kidding me? You heard what he said, right?”

“That he inadvertently may have taken out a hit on his bandmates?”

“Oh! Is that what you think?” Her eyes widened, and she pondered the idea for a moment before shaking her head. “No, that doesn’t make any sense. If you want to sign a musician for a solo act, you don’t have to kill his band and then wait for almost a year. You can just sign him on the spot. And what kind of hitman would poison a dozen people just to get to three musicians? It was an accident, that’s all.”

“You’re right,” Ray admitted. “Of course you’re right.” A thought struck him, and he asked, “Hey, if that’s not what you thought he was implying, what did you think he was talking about?”

“That he made a deal with the devil to sell his friends’ lives for fame and fortune.”

Ray burst out laughing despite himself. “Yeah, that definitely didn’t happen.”

Rose laughed too, and shook her head ruefully. “Poor Trevor.”

* * *

Trevor’s album made an unexpected splash and took him from “poor Trevor” to “obscenely rich Trevor” in an instant. He still came around to Rose’s place sometimes, bewildered and rather embarrassed at his own success. Rose treated him the way she always had, and Ray suspected that was one reason Trevor kept gravitating back there, in between the galas and the tours.

“I can’t believe I’m going to miss your wedding!” he complained, lying on his back on the sofa trying to untangle a tape that had got stuck in the Walkman.

“You’ll be in Italy,” Rose pointed out. “That’s much cooler than our wedding.”

“No, it isn’t. You guys are, like, the ultimate couple.”

Ray smiled at Rose. Rose smiled at Ray.

“See that?” Trevor said, pointing at them. “That right there.”

He gave up on the tape and tossed it aside, standing up. “I’ve got to go, I have studio time in half an hour. But I’m getting you a Discman as a wedding present.”

“You do that,” Rose said softly.

Trevor hesitated for a moment and then asked, “Could you do me a favor? Say, ‘Have a nice trip, Bobby.’”

“Have a nice trip, Bobby,” they both echoed, and he grinned.

“Thanks. I needed that.”

“Do you want us to call you Bobby?” Ray asked.

“No, not all the time. Just now and again, so I don’t forget, you know?”

“Yeah,” Rose said. “Sure thing, Bobby.”

* * *

Their own successes moved at a more reasonable pace. More gigs for Rose, more commissions for Ray, bank account steadily growing so that they no longer had to calculate prices in their head while shopping for groceries. Getting used to each other as a married couple, with all that entailed.

The next milestone took far, far too long, but after years of anxiety and tears, Rose finally got to step out of the bathroom with a smile on her face, waving that plastic stick in the air like a trophy.

“I’ve got a plus, bitches!” she declared, and Ray rushed up to her, heart swelling as he took her in his arms.

“I’m pregnant,” she told him.

“You’re pregnant,” he confirmed, and kissed her.

With past experiences in mind, it was some months before they dared to exhale and trust that the pregnancy would actually last, but when the baby bump started to show, they sat down to discuss the future.

“We’ll need a bigger apartment,” Ray said. “Sure, we can fit a baby in here, but when he gets older… or she… our kid will need more space to play. And maybe we’ll be lucky enough to have more than one.”

“Mhm,” Rose agreed, deep in thought. After a pause, she asked, “What about a house?”

“A house?”

“Trevor’s parents are selling theirs. It’s a really nice house, and with the money we have now, we could probably get a mortgage.”

“A house,” Ray said, trying it on for size. “Why not?”

The answer to _why not?_ became more apparent when they actually went to see Trevor’s parents house. Ray gaped at the garden, shook the hand of Trevor’s mom – Mrs. Vlašić – and saw two rooms before excusing himself and pulling Rose aside.

“This is a _really_ nice house,” he hissed at her.

“That’s what I said!”

“We can’t afford this!”

“Yes, we can. I’ve counted. It’s within our budget.”

“Babies are expensive. Did you count on that?”

“Yes, but they’re also cute in photos and great inspiration for lullabies.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You want to _monetize_ our baby?”

“No, I want the baby to be a part of our artistic process.” She patted his cheek. “Relax. It’ll be fine. If we’re ever hard pressed for money we could ask my sister to move in.”

“Okay, I love your sister, but _no_.”

“Are you alright in there?” Mrs. Vlašić called from the next room.

“Absolutely!” Rose called back. “Just admiring the view!”

She turned to Ray and tilted her head.

“Admit that the house is perfect.”

“It’s perfect. It’s too perfect. If we move in here, we’ll end up losing it, or something else bad is going to happen.”

“No, it won’t,” she said, kissed his nose and returned to Mrs. Vlašić.

They were looking at the bedrooms when Mrs. Vlašić asked, “When are you due, love?”

“June.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” She sighed. “Bobby – Trevor, I mean – is having a baby too. Well, his girlfriend is, in August. I asked if they were going to get married, and he said no. He says that they are connected on a spiritual level.”

If Ray had tried to tell his mother that he wouldn’t marry his pregnant girlfriend because they were connected on a spiritual level, he would have been murdered on the spot. Mrs. Vlašić didn’t seem like the homicidal type, but judging by her expression, she didn’t like it any better.

“We could set up playdates for our kids!” Rose said.

“Yeah, if he’s ever home,” Ray said automatically, and then winced. “Sorry. I just meant… Trevor’s been on tour a lot these past few years.”

“Oh, I know,” Mrs. Vlašić said. “I’ve been trying to get hold of him for weeks. There are all these things in the loft, musical instruments and whatnot. He used to have a studio in there, and he has forbidden us to sell it or throw it away, but there is no room for it in our new place.”

“We can hold onto it for him,” Rose assured her. “It’s no problem at all!”

“You’re a musician too, aren’t you? Maybe you can use them.”

Rose smiled. “Maybe I will.”

They both talked as if the house purchase was a given, and Ray supposed it was. They’d have to start checking price tags in the grocery store again, but there was no denying it – this was home.

* * *

They never did talk to Trevor about all the things in the loft, even after the crazy tour schedules slowed down and Trevor spent a lot more time in LA.

Ray wasn’t paying that much attention to Trevor’s record sales – between work, his wonderful children, and his equally wonderful wife, there was too much other stuff on his mind – but he knew that the second album hadn’t done as well as the first, and the third not as well as the second.

By the fourth, Trevor sat in the Molinas’ garden, reading charts that didn’t have his name on them, and put the magazine aside, sighing.

“Well, it’s official. I’m a has-been.”

Rose gave a sympathetic grimace. “Maybe go lighter on the sitars next time.”

“Nope. It’s not the sitars. It’s me. Anyway, I like sitars. They keep me in the zone.”

“It shows,” Ray said. “You always look so relaxed when you play sitar. It makes for great photos.”

It did not, however, make for great music, but he didn’t see any need to point that out.

“Forget it,” Trevor said. “I’ll never be as good as… my first album. At least I still get to play. And I’ve got money coming out of my ears, so that’s not a problem. And Carrie.”

His face softened, as he watched the girls playing tag between the bushes, little baby Carlos waddling after them as well as he could.

“That’s the best part of this, really. Getting to spend more time with her. Especially here. Forming new memories of this place. I’m glad she has a friend like Julie.” He looked up at Ray and Rose, smiling. “And I’m glad I’ve got friends like you.”

Rose ruffled his hair. “We’re glad to have you too, nene.”

* * *

When Julie was thirteen, Rose suddenly and inexplicably broke off her friendship with Trevor, and refused to explain why when Ray asked.

“He has a lot to make up for before I can forgive him,” was all she said.

Ray called Trevor up, but all he got was a deep sigh and, “I’m sorry, man. I just can’t do what she’s asking of me.”

Only a few days later, Julie broke up her friendship with Carrie too, though she was more than happy to explain her reasons.

“She said mom was a liar!” she ranted to her parents. “But I told her that _she’s_ the liar, she and her stupid-ass dad who hasn’t even been any good for, like, _twenty years_ …”

“Julie, you shouldn’t have said that,” Rose berated her. “I would hate to see you lose Carrie over this. She’s loyal to her dad. That’s as it should be.”

“Well, I’m loyal to you,” Julie said, jutting out her chin. “And Carrie’s been a brat lately anyway. Flynn is going to be my only best friend now.”

True to her word, Julie spent practically every afternoon with Flynn from then on. Ray didn’t mind the change so much. He quite liked Flynn, who had a spunky, outspoken style while still being more in tune with Julie’s emotions than Carrie was. Carrie had always been fond of having her own way, but in the past year or so she had developed an unfortunate habit of walking all over people, Julie included.

Still, he found the whole rift bewildering, and he never did get an explanation.

Not even on that horrible day two years later, when he next saw Trevor Wilson in the flesh again.

* * *

Rose had deteriorated rapidly, and Ray knew she couldn’t last much longer. He remained by her side as much as possible, holding her hand, terrified whenever he had to leave that she’d be gone before he returned.

There had never been much hope, even before the doctor gently told them that it might be best to take her off chemo. Ray had no idea what stage of grief he was in; they seemed to chase each other through his head like squirrels around a tree.

A terrible, treacherous part of him was just wishing for it to be over, for both of them to get rest in their own way. The rest rebelled at the thought. They were Ray and Rosa, the Molinas, that was what they had been for a quarter century. That was all he knew how to be. The Ray Molina who had once existed, 23 years old and with no idea that Rosa Arroyo existed in the world, he was long gone and not coming back.

The drugs made her drowsy and absent-minded, but couldn’t drown out the pain entirely. Even so, she still tried to sing, humming little broken pieces of songs to herself and to him, whenever she had the energy.

When Trevor arrived, he stepped into the room slowly, like a chastised schoolboy rather than a superstar millionaire.

“Jesus, Rose,” he said helplessly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She turned her head with some effort and gave him the shadow of a smile. “Hello, you.”

Since the visitor’s chair was already occupied, Trevor knelt down by the bed.

“Would you have left without saying goodbye? After everything?”

The despair on his face was so boyish that it stirred Ray’s memory. ‘Everything’ didn’t just mean everything they’d been through as friends, but also what had happened to his other friends.

“I guess I should have called,” Ray said. “There’s just been so much going on…”

“Is there anything I can do? Are you good for money?”

“Yes. And if we weren’t, we wouldn’t go begging to you,” Rose said.

The truth was, while they weren’t in financial distress yet, they easily could have been. It was yet another cruelty in all this, that the only reason they could keep the house was because Rose was dying so quickly.

Ray didn’t say any of that. His input wasn’t needed, anyway. Rose had caught Trevor in a stern glare.

“Have you done what I asked you to do?” she asked.

“I… I can’t.” Trevor wet his lips. “I have Carrie to consider. If what I suspect is true, then the terms I agreed to…”

“Tsk! You and your superstitions. You didn’t hurt those boys. Not then. But you are hurting them now. You need to set things right or I will haunt you, Trevor Wilson. If you deny my last wish, I will come to your house and make sure you never have a peaceful night’s sleep again.” A sudden grin spread over her gaunt face. “No, I will do you one better. I will find th…”

A spasm of pain forced her into silence, and Ray gripped her hand harder, leaning in to kiss her temple.

“Mom!”

Julie rushed in, with Victoria coming more slowly behind her. They were two hours early, and Julie ought to still be in school, but Ray couldn’t find it in him to mind.

“Oh, Mom!” Julie cried, and Rose reached out to caress her hair.

“Julie, cariña, what are you doing here? It’s much too early in the day. Victoria, I am disappointed in you.”

“Her teacher called me,” Victoria said softly. “This is where she needs to be.”

The bedside was getting crowded, and Trevor stood up, making his way to the door.

Rose would have none of that. “Bobby!”

“His name is Trevor, Mom,” Julie reminded her, and Rose smiled.

“Of course it is. Be a good boy, Trevor, and do as I say.”

Trevor, frozen by the door, shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

She sighed. “So am I. Goodbye, nene.”

“Goodbye, Rose.” His voice turned gravelly. “And thank you… for everything.”

With that, he turned and fled out the door.

* * *

Ray would never get tired of watching Julie perform. Even seeing her step onto the stage sent a thrill of pride through his body, and when she thanked her mom, his eyes welled up. _Look at our girl, Rose. Do you see how amazing she is?_

He could tell that she was still nervous, but after the first few notes, the strength of her voice and passion took over, leaving the audience mesmerized.

And then the boys popped in. Ray still hadn’t figured out what kind of technology Julie was using to make those holograms so lifelike. There were more glitches than usual, but despite all that, once the whole band was in place, you could have sworn they were there live.

He threw a glance across the crowd to gauge their reaction – enthusiastic as always, of course – and spotted Trevor and Carrie sitting by the bar. Carrie looked sourly impressed, while Trevor had a stricken expression, as if he’d seen a ghost.

That was weird, wasn’t it? Sure, Ray too got echoes of Rose from Julie at that moment, in her outfit, her energy, the halo of curly hair, and the large dahlia lying on the keyboard. But that was all they were. Echoes. Julie was very much her own person.

No, there was something else going on. Something that, if he managed to figure it out, might explain things about Trevor he had been wondering for years. His mind drifted back to that final conversation between Rose and Trevor…

...And then Julie went into the bridge, singing ooh-ooh-ooh along with the bassist, and it was so breathtaking that Ray forgot everything else, only squeezing Carlos’ and Victoria’s hands in excitement.

When the next chorus came, all three of them bounced up and down along with the beat, swept away in the performance.

As far as Ray was concerned, there was no other band on Earth like Julie and the Phantoms.


End file.
